Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Gibbs gets an emergency call in the middle of the night about one of his agents, and gets a surprise at the scene.
1. Chapter 1

_I can't remember where this story came from, at all, so I don't have much to say here. It's set late March of this year. Thank you for reading, and reviewing is always appreciated!that_

_Thank you to those who reviewed 'Hello', that and my other stories are standalones, but I will probably be writing other Somalia stories. Thanks!_

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"What?" It was by no means a polite greeting, but it was all Gibbs could muster at three in the morning. He'd only put down the sandpaper and bottle of bourbon an hour ago, and that was not nearly enough sleep, even for him.

"Morning Gunny," a voice sang in his ear.

It took him several seconds to place it. "Donovan?"

"Yep. I'm on call tonight, I recognized a name that I think is one of yours." The former Marine turned EMT explained.

Gibbs pulled himself to a sitting position, running a hand over his face. "What's the name?"

"DiNozzo. He's one of yours, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah." _Shit, what happened?_ "Where are you?"

"His building. The whole thing is up in flames, but your boy is okay, sucking up 02 now. I just figured you'd want to know."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm on my way." He hung up without a goodbye, and immediately began grabbing clothes.

Why did it always seem to be DiNozzo? Didn't he just get an emergency call with a disturbance at one of his agent's apartments, and DiNozzo in trouble? Was that really almost a year ago? It didn't feel like it. He could still close his eyes and see the blood and broken glass strewn around Ziva's usually neat apartment, dead Israeli in the middle of it all. That disaster was still way too fresh for a new one to be upon them already. But this disaster should be minor.

If Tony was still at the building, then he was alright, though smoke inhalation with his scarred lungs was bound to be painful. It would be a matter of dragging him home, and giving him a place to crash while he argued with his insurance company. Or flirted, if the representative happened to be a woman. Gibbs just hoped he could get through a couple weeks listening to Tony mourn his designer suits, and oh god...the DVD collection.

Tony would be inconsolable. It was going to be a very long couple of weeks.

Gibbs slid into his truck, and maneuvered deftly out of his driveway at speeds that usually made his team cringe. Well, maybe not Ziva. She was not one to critique other people's driving. There was almost no traffic, so he was able to go as fast as he pleased, and arrived quicker than he expected.

The scene was packed with fire trucks, ambulances, and DCPD cruisers, their red and blue lights whipping around in the night. The hoses were still going, held tightly by firefighters in soot tinged yellow, listening to the orders shouted to them by their captain. The buildings residents stood around wide-eyed, watching flames devour their homes. Some wore gray blankets, while others were in their pajamas, tinged gray with soot. Beneath the rush of the hoses and cracks and pops of the fire, was a chorus of sniffles and coughs.

The building itself was vomiting dark smoke into the night sky, and tinged orange by the flames. The brick facade was already blackened in spots and in others the structure was already dripping water. The hoses pounded the building, but the flames kept jumping up, like orange tongues lapping at water.

Gibbs turned at the sound of sirens to see an ambulance speed off, lights whirling around, coloring the night. He spun back the other way when a voice called, "Gunny!"

Donovan trotted up to him, his dark hair longer than Gibbs had ever seen it when they served together. He held out a hand, but Donovan--one of the most consistently jovial people Gibbs knew next to Abby--grabbed him instead in a hug. He patted his friend's shoulder and nodded toward the scene.

"They know what caused it yet?"

"Nope, still trying to put it out. Your agent is on the other side of the ambulances. He's wearing gray blanket and oxygen mask, and cuddled against a very attractive brunette." Donovan wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, of course Tony would have a woman with him. "Sounds like DiNozzo."

Donovan ran off to tend to the next fire victim as Gibbs carefully picked his way through the scene. He passed the three ambulances that remained at the scene, one looking like it was about to take off with a burn victim, and took a minute to survey the people that remained. They were standing or sitting in the small grassy area and sidewalk in front of the building across the street. Gibbs moved slowly, and carefully searched the faces, looking for an Italian playboy wearing an oxygen mask. And, whatever brunette he'd brought home.

He found the young agent he thought of as a son, sitting on the sidewalk and breathing with some difficulty. As Donovan had said, he was wrapped in a cheap wool blanket, and an oxygen mask was strapped over his face. His head was resting on the shoulder of the brunette, whose head was turned away from Gibbs, looking at the people behind them. She was also wrapped in a blanket, her arms around Tony, and Gibbs couldn't help but hope they were both wearing clothes. Tony looked whipped.

Gibbs cringed when his agent suddenly bent foward, a sickening rattle bursting violently through his chest. The wavy-haired brunette held him steady, one hand rubbing across his back. She didn't even cringe when Tony deposited a lump of gooey black mucus on the street. He soon fell back against her, chest heaving, and head lolling, allowing her to take much of his weight as he focused on simply breathing. The woman leaned down then, pressing a kiss to his head, allowing Gibbs to finally see her face. Just as Tony caught sight of him.

Damn. Not really what he was expecting.

He watched Tony momentarily register panic, and nudge the 'very attractive brunette'. Refusing to visibly register surprise, Gibbs ambled over, looking down at _two _of his agents. Ziva's hair was tangled and attempting to revert back to her natural curls, covered in the same soot that covered her face, and Tony's as well. But her eyes were defiant as she looked up at him, and to her credit, she didn't move her arms from around Tony.

Huddled together, they looked like a couple of war refugees.

"You alright, DiNozzo?"

He nodded and went to remove the mask to talk, but Ziva held it over his face. "The EMTs said to keep it on, Tony."

He rolled his eyes at her, but dropped his hand, and any attempt to remove the mask. His voice came out unnaturally nasal. "Hi Boss. I'm alright, just a little winded."

This was followed by a round of coughing. Ziva held him as he struggled to breath around the violent hacking, her blanket slipping off her lap. She was wearing an Ohio State Buckeyes shirt--and nothing else. At least it was something.

She turned to Gibbs. "The smoke hit him hard. We barely made it out before he collapsed-" she was stopped by a cough that wasn't much better than Tony's. "He refused to go to a hospital."

"Why's that?"

"Don't need it." This Tony said while his head had once again found it's way to Ziva's shoulder.

Gibbs nodded. "Alright."

"Who called you?" Ziva asked.

"A marine buddy. Recognized DiNozzo's name."

There was a surprisingly long moment of awkward silence, until Gibbs finally decided to come right out and ask.

"So, you two want to tell me how long this has been going on?"

"How d'you know it's not completely innocent, Boss?" After a coughing fit, and through a plastic mask, Tony still managed to shoot his trademark grin.

"Ziva's not a Buckeyes fan." He nodded to her attire.

Tony chuckled. Ziva rolled her eyes, and answered. "A few months."

"Turns out, we had the same New Year's resolution."

"Stop talking, it's making it harder for you to breathe," Ziva scolded him.

Tony ignored her. "If it makes you feel better, Boss," he paused to cough, "I'd probably be dead if she wasn't with me tonight."

Gibbs turned his attention to Ziva. "That true, Ziver?"

"The smell woke me up. I woke Tony, he was coughing by the time we got to the door, and the alarms went on."

"Off."

"What?" She turned to look at him.

"The alarms went off. Not on."

"That makes no sense."

Rather than explain it, Tony looked to him for help. Gibbs shrugged. "She's got a point."

The younger man shook his head, his eyes going heavenward.

"So are you telling me I should excuse this as you bringing back-up home with you, DiNozzo?"

"Would that work?" His hacking noises were partially covered by Ziva's chuckles.

Gibbs kept the amused smile off his face only with considerable effort. "You keep this the way you have been, and we can pretend this never happened."

"Like the Twilight Zone, Boss?"

Ziva scoffed. "I swear Tony, your dying words will be: I saw this in a move..."

"Naw, I'm going to," he coughed, "going to go with a Citizen Kane, Rosebud thing. You know mys--" Tony's words were lost in a coughing attack that left him gripping Ziva so he didn't fall over.

"You've got plenty of time to plan that, DiNozzo. Right now though, I think you need to get some rest." Gibbs turned and snagged an EMT.

Tony released an anguished moan as the EMT was listening to his pulse.

"Tony?" Ziva was tensed, eyes roving him for any other signs of injury.

"My movies..." He trailed off, his voice filled with anguish.

"Are gone," she finished for him with a sigh. "We can rebuild your collection, yes?"

"Fight Club was signed by David Fincher."

"That's at my place."

His eyes light up for a minute, relief flooding his features, but only for seconds. "One saved."

"We will see what else is there."

"My suits. Designer suits..." He was shaking his head, making the EMT's exam more difficult.

"I think you have a couple of those at my place as well," Ziva said, stilling his head for the grateful EMT.

Gibbs looked on, surprised at the revelation, and wondering just how serious the relationship was. He supposed after everything they'd been through, it would have to be serious from the get-go. You can't have a one-night stand with the man that shot your last boyfriend to death, or the woman you helped rescue from a terrorist training camp (who's last boyfriend you'd killed). No, that's the kind of baggage that requires commitment before you even start. Evidently, his two romantically-challenged agents hadn't been frightened off by that. His was maybe just a smidge proud of them. A very tiny, little smidge.

The rest was gearing up to smack them.

"He should be okay, as long as someone is with him tonight. Better off sleeping upright though." The EMT pulled Gibbs from his thoughts, before turning to his agents. "Don't be alarmed if you're coughing up black mucus for the next few days. That's a good sign."

"Thank you," Ziva said, handing him back the oxygen and mask. She slowly stood up, pulling Tony with her, and supporting the more than winded agent.

Gibbs was startled by the sight. It pulled him back to not even a year ago, to a time on a different continent. Suddenly, he was seeing the orangey-brown African dirt and days worth of sweat smeared on their faces, hair just as tangled, and Tony holding Ziva up, McGee on her other side. A different time, a different place, but the same stark picture of his agents.

They were survivors.

He_ was_ proud of them.

Gibbs shook himself out of his stare, and headed over to his car, not bothering to check to see if they were following him. He knew they would.

He started the car, and then hopped back out to assist Ziva in settling Tony into the back seat. He was pale and struggling to keep his breathing deep and slow, but still managed to leer at his partner when one of her hands ended up on his ass. Of course, the former Mossad assassin only rolled her eyes, completely unfazed.

Gibbs stopped her when she went to close the door. "Nope."

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"In with him. You make sure he doesn't get phlegm all over the leather." Gibbs held the door for Ziva, and gestured her into the vehicle. He heard her mumble something about men and their cars.

She shoved Tony along the seat, against his protests of harsh treatment, and got in beside him. Ziva fastened her seatbelt, and motioned him toward her, allowing him to lay his head on her lap. Tony quickly forgot his earlier complaints, too grateful that he didn't have to try and stay upright against Gibb's driving.

Gibb's watched the pair in his rearview mirror as he pulled out into the street. He saw a woman who'd been raised to be a cold-blooded, almost mechanical, killer and spy; who been trained never to feel, or at least never to let it show. Her fingers ran softly through his hair, soothing him in a way that was both very intimate and very innocent. He saw a man that lost the most important woman in his life as a child, and promised never to let another woman get that close. He grabbed her other hand and held it in his, a subtle 'thank you' for the care she bestowed on him.

He saw it when DiNozzo's eyes closed in sleep, and the little affectionate smirk that appeared on Ziva's face when she noticed.

It made him miss Shannon. It made him miss Jenny. The only two women it would have ever worked with, both dead.

By the time he pulled up to Ziva's building, she too had seemed to have dosed off. At least until the car clicked off, and her still highly acute senses sent her eyes flying open. She nudged Tony awake as Gibbs opened the door for them. His senior field agent blinked his bleary eyes awake, and started upon seeing his boss. Gibbs, once again, hid his amusement.

"Home sweet home," he mumbled.

"Get your ass outta my car, DiNozzo."

"Right, Boss." Ziva was already out, and helping Tony birth himself from the backseat, allowing him again to lean heavily on her. "I feel like shit."

"You look like shit," Gibbs remarked.

"Thanks, Boss."

He smirked. "You need help getting him inside, Ziver?"

"No, I'll manage. Thank you for the ride, Gibbs." She smiled, thanking him for more than the ride.

"You're welcome. Keep him breathing for me."

"As long as he does not spend today mourning his videos and suits, that should not be a problem," she said.

"What if I do?" Tony looked at her.

Ziva glared. "Do you really want to find out?"

He shot Gibbs a look of exaggerated fear. "You really going to leave me here alone with her, Boss?"

"Didn't seem to be a problem last night, DiNozzo."

The former player grinned. "She wasn't threatening me last night."

Gibbs chuckled. "I think you can handle it."

Tony offered a stout nod. "I believe I can."

He rolled his eyes. "Get your ass inside before you fall down, DiNozzo."

"Yes, you are not that light, Tony." Ziva commented, shifting where his weight fell.

"Hey!"

Before the conversation continued, Gibbs waved them away, turning to his car. They were at the front door when he though of one other thing. "Hey!"

Well-trained agents they were, both whipped around to the sound of his voice. Gibbs hid a smile.

"Put some clothes on!" Then he slammed the car door, and peeled away like only he could.


	2. Author's Note

This is just an authors note.

Apology time. I never meant for this to be anything except a standalone piece, I just forgot to mark it complete. I realized that I hadn't a couple days after posting it, and decided I'd try to think of a second chapter, since so many people liked it. I could not, unfortunately. I really, really didn't mean to tease anyone, and at that point I couldn't just mark it complete, say oops, and that's it. So, I wrote short unrelated Tony/Ziva story that I've posted as a sort of compensatory offering. It's called _Motek_.

Read it, enjoy it, and forgive me. I will promise to be more diligent with the whole complete thing in the future.

That done, now I want to say a very big, THANK YOU!!! When I logged into my email and saw over a hundred alerts, I think my eyes came close to popping out of my head. Seriously, I've never had this many reviews on a one-chapter story. Or favorites. So, thank you all soooo much for taking the time to let me know you liked it, that means a lot to me. And, more than just thank you, I wanted to try and express that. So, bear with me a minute.

It means that when I feel like I'm not going anywhere with my current short story (non-fanfic) or novel, that when I reread my prose and decide an elementary schooler could have done better, or that when nothing in my head seems to be working…that maybe, I'm just being neurotic. That it's not as bad as it feels. That one day, I will see my fiction in actual print, not just a computer screen.

Thank you all for that little speck of hope and confidence.

And, for those of you curious about the origins of the fire--there's no fowl play, just someone had a really unfortunate accident.


End file.
